


Royal Pains

by Satine86



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-04 03:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4123353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Modern Nevarra, Cassandra is poised to be the new queen. When her advisors suggest a political marriage she doesn't want a part of, she ropes Varric into a fake engagement to save face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vehlr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/gifts).



> Originally inspired by the prompt "fake dating" and this little drabble: http://antivanruffles.tumblr.com/post/110300367102/au-meme-33-celebrity-fan-varric-cassandra

Cassandra covered her face with both hands and let out a groan. She regretted ever hiring a ghostwriter, ever _thinking_ about a memoir. The amount of familiarity they needed, the amount she had to let him in, and in such a short period of time, was disconcerting to say the least. 

The fact the ghostwriter happened to be Varric, made it all the worse.

Over the course of the past few months, she had routinely thought about firing him, but that would require hiring another person for the job and letting _them_ into her life. The thought of going through all of this again was daunting and less than desirable. So she put up with his... eccentricities. 

“What's wrong, Princess?” 

Except _that_ one.

Lowering her hands slowly, she glared at him where he sat across the room. “I told you never to call me that.” 

He laughed, eyes crinkling, and he turned back to his typewriter. She thought it strange he used such an old machine rather than a laptop, but she had grown accustomed to the rhythmic click-clacks as he typed. It always seemed too quiet when he left for the day. Not that she would ever tell him that. 

“I called your name three times with no reply. I knew 'Princess' would get a response,” he said, pulling a sheet of paper from the machine. “I had a question about the match in Budapest.”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

Varric swiveled around in his chair, eyeing her blandly. “That's a shame, Princess, but not how it works.”

She groaned again and sat aside the notes she'd been reading over, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I mean now. I'm tired and my head hurts.” 

He slid off his chair, and she could hear his footfalls heading toward the table in the corner of the room where their phones were charging. “Dinner?” he asked, and Cassandra could hear the frown in his voice. 

“Yes,” she sighed, grateful. It had become a common practice. Take-out, a bottle of wine, talking. Lots of talking. About her life, of course. She felt like she knew nothing about Varric... except she did. He didn't like curry, he was fond of wordplay and puns, and he quoted Hemingway too often. 

“Greek tonight?” he asked over his shoulder, perusing their collection of restaurant menus. 

Cassandra perked up and leaned over the arm of the couch. “With dolmades?”

“Of course, they're your favorite aren't they?” He was already dialing the number. 

“Don't forget to ask for extra--”

“Extra avgolemono. Yeah, yeah, I know, Princess.” She was ready with a retort but he was talking to whomever had answered the phone. So she settled back against the couch and resisted the urge to pout.

* * * 

It was sometime later, empty take-out boxes spread across the coffee table ready to be thrown out, that Cassandra relaxed back against the couch, legs outstretched and a glass of wine in her hand. Varric mimicked her pose at the other end of the couch.

“All right, ready to talk about Budapest now?” he asked, and she couldn't help but notice the notebook by his side. 

“No, please not tonight. I'm sick of talking about myself.” 

“You're the one that wanted to write a memoir, I'm just doing my job.” He leaned over to top off her glass, before draining what was left in the bottle into his own glass. 

“Ugh, take a break for the night.” 

“Fine, just remember you're the one who wanted a memoir and a ghostwriter.” Varric looked at her closely for a moment. “It's because that's when the engagement was called off, right?” 

Cassandra winced. Damn him, he was right. Of course. “I only mentioned that in passing days ago, how do you remember everything?” 

He looked at her over the rim of his glass, a smile curling his lips. “Because I'm good at paying attention to you, Princess.” 

“Well, stop it.” She shoved his arm. “Why don't you tell me about yourself?” 

Varric laughed and shook his head. “Me? Ah, that's nothing special. I'm not a fencing champion, or an Olympic gold medalist. Nor am I royalty.” 

“Please don't remind me. If I never had anything do with that life again, I would be happy.” She tilted her head back, resting it against the couch cushions and staring up at the ceiling. The rented townhouse was comfortable, and she thought it felt like home. At least as much as anything ever had. Even when she'd been a child growing up in Nevarra, it hadn't ever really felt like home. She let out a sigh, and could feel rather than see Varric shift next to her. 

“You know,” he said, voice a low rumble, “if you ever want to talk about something off the record. I am a decent listener.” 

She huffed out a laugh and took a sip of her wine to distract from it. Then a thought struck her: they were friends. For as much as he teased her and got on her nerves. For all the times she rolled her eyes in exasperation, and for all the times he rolled his, because she knew she goaded him just as much as he did her, they had somehow become friends. It was actually rather nice. 

“Thank you, Varric, I mean it.” She sat her glass on the coffee and turned to face him, legs curling underneath her. “I'm sure this will come as no surprise, but I don't have many close friends. It's good to have someone to talk to. Even if I'm paying him.” 

Varric barked out a laugh. “I'd imagine I'm off the clock by now, but the offer still stands. Whenever you're ready.” He reached out and patted her knee gently. Even through her jeans his hand felt warm, soothing. 

“Thank you,” she said again. They were silent for a moment, neither moving. Then he seemed to rouse himself, and moved to stand. 

“I should get going, it's late.” He swept the food containers into the original carry-out bag, tidying up quickly while he gathered his things. 

“You don't have to clean up. I can handle it.” She tried to wave him off, but he was already done, shrugging into his jacket, the worn old thing with the patches at the elbows. She wondered idly if he would accept a new one, should she buy him one.

“Don't worry about it. I'll see you in the morning,” he said and reached out to pat the top of her head. Then before she realized it, he was gone and the room was quiet. It was always quiet after he left. Empty too. 

Cassandra clambered to her feet, gathering up what was left on the table and carrying it to the kitchen. She glanced around, as if she had forgotten something. Unable to place what was wrong, she shrugged to herself and went to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of minor character death.

Varric felt like his head had only just hit the pillow when he was startled by the blaring of his phone. He reached out for it with a muttered curse, and glanced at the screen with blearily eyes. The name read “Princess.” Why was she calling at... half past two in the morning?

“Miss me?” he asked by way of greeting.

“Varric?” She sounded strange, he thought as he rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm.

“Cassandra? What's wrong,” he croaked.

“I'm sorry, Varric. I don't have anyone else to call and I didn't know what to do.” Her voice shook with barely suppressed tears. Varric bolted upright in bed, suddenly wide awake.

“What happened?”

“It's my brother, Anthony,” she whispered and he could tell she was crying in earnest now. “They just called me. Varric, he's dead.”

“Shit.” He threw off the sheets and started looking around the room for his pants. “Look, Cassandra, I'll be over as soon as I can.”

“No, please. No, I don't want to trouble you that much. Just... just talk to me for a little while?”

He flopped back onto the bed and debated if he should listen to her and stay put, or go over there and damn the consequences. Her loud sniffle brought him back to the present, and he realized she probably didn't want anyone to see her cry. Varric decided he would stay home.

“Right,” he murmured. “Did you want to talk about revisions?”

“No, you fool.” She huffed out a breath that sounded a good bit like a laugh and he thought he'd done something right. “Tell me a story. You're good at that.”

“What about?”

“I don't care. Anything.... but something happy?”

“Okay, so once upon a time there was a young rapscallion. He was a handsome lad, with golden hair and a charming smile.” He chuckled at her incredulous snort on the other end, but she didn't stop him. “He tried to be a good boy, but sometimes, well, sometimes it was difficult.”

“Of course it was,” she sputtered in amusement.

“So this lad's family ran an antique shop, it was full of priceless treasures, and quite a popular destination for miles around. However, there was a competitor. Underhanded people who sold cheap knockoffs priced for an arm and a leg.” Varric settled himself against his pillows, fully enjoying his story now.

“Anyway, one day these competitors put up a billboard that overlooked the lad's family shop. It was a dirty move, and of course the lad's family was outraged at their audacity. The lad tried to ignore it. Tried to tell himself he was just a boy, and it wasn't his place. Only he couldn't let it go. So being a clever lad, he thought up a plan....”

“Varric,” Cassandra drawled and he could practically see her covering her face with her hand. “What did you do?”

“Now, now. I'm telling you a story. You can't go jumping ahead.”

“Fine,” she scoffed, but there was clearly a smile in her voice.

“This billboard was fairly innocuous, some random antiques pictured with a phone number and address. The only thing of importance was the store name written in scrawling script: Smith and Sons, since 1966.” Varric paused when Cassandra snorted, he smiled as he continued the story.

“This lad was actually quite good at forging handwriting and copying styles. So he took his meager savings, perhaps supplemented with some funds from his brother, and bought himself a couple cans of paint before setting to work. He toiled away most the night, covering the original writing and replacing it with his own. So when morning came it read: Shit Sons, crapping since 1969.”

“Now,” he said sternly before she could even take a breath, “to the mind of an eleven year old, this was the height of humor.”

She snorted into the phone. “Still, you defaced a billboard. You were a child! How did you even get up there?”

“I was determined. Besides, I didn't see it as defacing so much as improving. I mean, even then I knew false advertising was a terrible thing.”

She was silent a moment, and he knew she was trying not to laugh. She spoke after a moment, “How much trouble did you get into?”

“Actually not much. I was never caught. Well, no that's not true. I was never caught by the adults. See, my brother wasn't happy I stole his money. It was worth it, though.”

She yawned, and he could picture her red-rimmed eyes and equally red nose. “Hey,” he said, “you should try to sleep.”

“I think that sounds like a good plan.” She yawned again.

“Okay, get some rest. I'll be over in the morning with coffee and donuts.”

“Varric?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He smiled. “Anytime, Princess.”

For once she didn't make that disgusted sound in the back of her throat. Instead she merely mumbled a quick 'goodnight' and hung up.

As Varric settled his blankets again, burrowing into his pillows to get comfortable, he thought about tomorrow. What that would bring for Cassandra, what all of it would bring. If her brother was dead that meant she was next in line for the crown.

“Shit,” he mumbled into the darkness.“Guess I can't call her ‘Princess’ her anymore.”

 

* * *

 

When he arrived that morning he found Cassandra put together. If she hadn't called him the night before, there was no way he would've known something was wrong. She greeted him like usual, accepted her coffee and donut and suggested they get to work.

Her careful facade started to crack around midday. They'd been discussing the details of when she knew she wanted to be a fencer. Anthony was mentioned in passing, and she froze.

She was standing in front of the bay windows lining the living room wall, looking out over the city. Her posture, normally ramrod straight, sank into a slouch as she started wringing her hands. Varric remained seated at the desk in the corner, waiting for her to speak again.

When Cassandra turned around to look at him, her face was pinched, her eyes dull and unfocused, the shine of tears visible.

“I'm sorry,” she mumbled, “I can't do this. Not today.”

“Will you be going back?”

She nodded. “I'll have to. There are advisors... a delegation of some sort is arriving tomorrow. I'll need to return for the funeral and--” she stopped and swallowed hard, finally lifting her eyes to meet his. “Anthony never fathered a child, Varric. I am the rightful successor.”

“Yeah, I know.” He patted the stack of notes for the memoir. “Kinda in the job description.”

Cassandra snorted at that, half amused, half exasperated. It was normal. That was good. She started pacing, her long stride eating up the distance between the windows and the far wall. Still, Varric remained where he was, watching her.

“This was never supposed to happen,” she said. “Anthony wanted it, not me. He took pride in his title, and he was a good king. How can I be a queen?”

“Personally, I think you'll make a damned fine queen.” She snorted again. He smiled. “Things are raw right now, and that's all right. Normal even.”

She let out a sigh, shoulders sagging a bit more, and nodded. After a moment she glanced toward the clock on the wall, then swung her gaze back to him. “Is it too early for a drink?”

“Not today, Princess. Not today.” He slid off his chair, and went to the kitchen to retrieve a pair of tumblers and a bottle of whiskey he knew she kept in the cupboard. When he returned to the living room, she was on the couch and he took a seat next to her. He sat down the glasses and poured two fingers worth.

“To Anthony,” he said as he held up his drink in a toast.

Cassandra smiled and clinked her glass with his, “To Anthony.”

As the afternoon bled into the evening, the whiskey in the bottle dwindled considerably. At some point, though neither of them were sure how, Cassandra ended up stretched out on the couch, her feet dangling off one end while her head rested on Varric's lap. They were both well passed buzzed, but that was all right. She seemed relaxed, and that was what he'd been hoping for.

“When we were children, we would play hide and seek in the palace.” She tilted her head to look at him, her eyes glassy. “There were so many rooms and doors and hidden places. It was perfect.”

“Did you get in trouble?”

“Oh, of course. But I didn’t care at the time. Especially since I always beat Anthony.”

“Champion seeker then, huh?”

“Something like that.” She huffed out a laugh before growing more somber. “I'm going to miss him. I feel terribly that I didn't visit him when I had the chance.”

“Hey, hey,” he said and smoothed his hand over her hair. He wasn't sure why he did it, it just seemed like the right thing to do. Besides, her hair was soft. “You can't think like that, the what-ifs and should-haves will ruin you. Believe me, I know.”

She looked at him, one brow lifted in question.

“My brother died a few years ago.”

“I'm so sorry.” Her eyes were swimming with unshed tears and he gave her a weak smile, fingers still combing through her hair.

“The pain's still there, but it gets less and less. You'll see that.”

She swallowed thickly and glanced away. “I hope so,” she mumbled. “What happened to him? Your brother?” Cassandra look back at him. “If I may ask?”

Varric grunted and settled himself against the couch cushions. “After my parents died, years ago, my brother and I took over the family business.”

“The antique shop?”

“That's right. We did a lot of importing for it, from all over the world.” It wasn't a lie, he told himself. Let her think it was priceless vases and paintings... rather than less legal things. It had been Bertrand's idea after all, the perfect front to move what needed to be moved. As long as the money was right, of course.

“There was a mix up with a shipment, so Bertrand went to sort it out on his own.” There'd been cocaine. A lot of it. Cocaine hadn't been part of the plan. “There was some bad weather... he, uh, he never made it back.” Bad weather, a rain of bullets from the cartel, same difference right? Both meant he'd never see his brother again.

“I'm so sorry, Varric.” She reached up, grabbed his free hand and gave it a squeeze. “Were you close?”

Varric laughed. “He was a huge pain in my ass, but he would've said the exact same thing about me. We were very different people, but at the end of the day he was my big brother. The only family I had left. It was hard, Princess, but it gets better. I promise.”

He glanced down and realized she was asleep. It was only then he realized exactly how late it was. Exactly how drunk he was. Exactly how comfortable the couch was. His eyes felt heavy, and Cassandra's even breathing was soothing, maybe if he just closed his eyes for a moment....


	3. Chapter 3

assandra woke to sun streaming in through the windows and a pounding at her temples. She moaned and attempted to make herself more comfortable, burrowing against her pillows. Only the pillow moved, followed by a low groan from above her. Her eyes flew open in response. It took a moment to gain her bearings, but once she did she realized that she and Varric had fallen asleep on the couch. She glanced toward the coffee table, to the whiskey bottle, and it all became a little clearer.

And more painful. Ugh, her head.

“I am so hungover,” she mumbled as she sat up slowly, fingers rubbing at her temples.

“So am I,” Varric said. His voice was lower, rougher, a near rumble in his chest. She turned back to look at him, face covered with more stubble than his usual 5 o'clock shadow, eyes rimmed red. He looked exhausted, and she imagined she didn't look any better.

“I-we,” he stressed, scrubbing his hands down his face, “need coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.”

“I don't-”

“There's nothing in the kitchen, I know.” He took in a deep breath and stood up. “Wait there, I'll be back.”

“Varric,” she started, but he was already pulling his wallet from his coat, along with his sunglasses. He placed those on his face and smiled.

“Ah, much better.” He turned and waved a hand over his shoulder. “Don't worry about it, the cafe is at the end of the block.” With that comment he left. The apartment was quiet, empty, and she idly wondered if she could attempt a shower while he was gone.

She finally decided that she could manage a quick one and was halfway to her bedroom when a knock sounded on the door.

“Varric?” she called as she walked down the short hall. “Did you lock yourself... out?” She felt her eyes go wide as she recognized the ambassadors from Nevarra. She knew them all, most had been loyal to her brother for the last fifteen years, if not longer.

The group greeted her all at once, a ringing chorus that was far too loud for this early in the morning. She was backed into the hallway as they all shuffled inside, bowing and prattling on about a million things at once. She was not rested enough for any of this.

“Your majesty,” a gravelly voice said. Cassandra turned to find Vihlus Van Markham bowing before her. He was the lead advisor, had been since her parents were in power. He was a serious man with a grave face, lined and worn like old leather. She remembered disliking him as a girl, she didn't think that feeling had much changed.

“Vihlus,” she greeted coolly as he stepped into her apartment.

“I'm sorry for not phoning ahead, we've only just landed. There is much to discuss.” He brushed past her, going to join the others in the living room. As Cassandra shut the door, she realized they would see the near empty bottle of whiskey.

Oh well, let them gossip later.

“I did not expect you so early,” she said. “I am still.... reeling from the news.”

“Yes,” Vihlus said dryly, watery eyes drifting over the bottle on the coffee table. “I would imagine you are.”

Cassandra frowned, trying her best to ignore the man. “What is it that requires my attention so urgently?”

Everyone gathered started speaking at once, and Cassandra felt like she had opened the dam. There were her brother's funeral arrangements, a press conference discussing the changeover, planning a welcome home event for her, a coronation.

As they spoke, Cassandra tried to focus on their words, but it was like so many chirping birds and her head was pounding. She crossed to the windows, eyes unfocused as she tried to gather her wits.

“Your majesty?” Vihlus broke through her thoughts.

She hadn't even realized her mind had wandered from the conversation. Cassandra turned back to the emissaries and smiled weakly. “I'm sorry?”

“I was saying that after the announcement of the King's death, unsurprisingly, our dollar has weakened considerably. Treaties are being tested, and there were several negations he'd been working on that are rapidly falling apart.”

Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose, wanting nothing more than to relieve some of the pressure behind her eyes. Why hadn't she gone to get aspirin? 

“Perhaps we should save this for later? It is a trying time.” Cassandra turned to the young woman who had spoken, she was well dressed and prim with a clipboard clutched to her chest. Cassandra scrambled to her remember her name, she was not a native of Nevarra, but worked in foreign policies. She was saved from trying to call the name when Vihlus spoke again.

“Yes, it is, Josephine, but the longer we let these things continue, the harder it will be to untangle the mess.”

Cassandra offered Josephine a quick smile, and the other woman inclined her head. “Thank you for your concern, but he is right. It won't get better the longer we wait. What's the most urgent matter we can attempt to fix?”

“The trade negations with Duke Clemont seem the most pressing,” Josephine supplied. “Your brother had been speaking with him, but the Duke is a little... sour.”

“If we could work out a trade route with him, it would be a boon for the economy. Something we sorely need as the dollar weakens.” Vihlus looked even graver as he started pacing the room. “I think the quickest way to achieve what we want, since talking seems to be fruitless, is to petition a marriage.”

“A marriage?” Cassandra felt her eyes going wide as she sank onto the couch. He couldn't possibly mean--

“Yes,” Vihlus continued. “It's a sound strategy, and would garner even more opportunities with the Duke. He's rich, it could prove advantageous to be in his good graces. Besides, it's common knowledge he wants to marry off his younger son. He's been trying to do so within the Orlesian courts for years.”

“Who do you suggest he marry?”

Vihlus stopped pacing and faced Cassandra, thick brows shooting up toward his hairline as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Why, you, of course.”

Cassandra nearly choked at the thought. “Me?”

“Yes. It would open many doors with the Duke, as well as strengthen our alliances with Orlais. I think it would be quite fortuitous, indeed.”

“No!” Cassandra shot up. She managed to refrain from stamping her foot, but only barely. Of course the sudden movement sent a rush of blood to her temples, and her hangover seemed to increase tenfold. It was too early for marriage proposals, and her head hurt too much.

“Is something the matter, your _Majesty_?” Vihlus stressed the word in such a way that Cassandra was keenly aware of every bit of responsibility resting on her shoulders. She could feel them all, perched like a giant boulder. This was not what she wanted, but she had little choice.

Perhaps though she could put it off for a little while? Just a little more freedom before she gave into the full weight of the crown.

“I can't get married to the Duke's son...” she started to say, ignoring the scowl on Vihlus' face, the curious murmurs from the rest of the delegation, but the sound of the front door slamming cut her off.

“Sorry that took so long,” she heard Varric call from the entryway. “Seems like everyone else decided they needed blended drinks and who knows what from that particular... shop.” He stopped at the entry to the living room, eyes trailing over the group before him.

“Did I crash the party?” he asked blandly, face perfectly serene, as if it were a common occurrence.

“Varric!” Cassandra felt such a wave of relief at seeing him there, knowing there was _someone_ on her side. Because she had no doubt he would always be in her corner. But the relief was trumped by her pounding headache, and she wanted nothing more than for everything to end. For the entire delegation to leave her in peace. It was the combination of these two things that led her to say what she said next, or at least that's what she would claim later on.

Or perhaps she was still been drunk from the night before?

Either way, at that moment she turned to Vihlus and declared, “I cannot marry the Duke's son because I am already engaged. To Varric.”

Every head in the room swiveled toward him, and Cassandra sent up a silent thank you to the heaven's that his face remained just as placid as it had been since he entered the room. He inclined his head in greeting, his eyes finding hers. She gestured wildly, mentally begging him to play along. He smiled and winked.

She was doomed.

“We had no knowledge of this,” Vihlus said, scrutinizing both of them.

“Yeah, well, it's a fairly recent development.” Varric grinned widely, and Cassandra had to fight the urge to groan. “We'd only decided the other night, when we got the call about Anthony. Didn't even have time to get a ring.” He looked grave, and that seemed to earn some sympathy from those around them. At least a few of them.

Vihlus looked ready to reply, but Cassandra spoke first, “Won't you give me a moment alone with my fiancee?” Without waiting for reply, she pushed through the people gathered and started shoving Varric out into the hall, toward the kitchen.

“Have you thought of a date yet? What about a Honeymoon in Antiva? The weather's lovely this time of year.” Varric was laughing as he leaned against the counter.

“I'm so sorry,” she said, already pacing on the other side of the kitchen island. “They were talking about all these things and they wanted me to marry a Duke's son. I panicked.” She stopped and faced Varric. “I could still be a little drunk?”

“No,” Varric waggled a hand, “You can't still be drunk, because I thought I was still drunk and imagining things.”

“Unfortunately no.”

Varric hummed in the back of his throat. “Maybe we should drink? That might make it more tolerable?”

Cassandra's face soured. “Ugh, no. I never want to think about liquor again.”

He gave her a long look. “You're set to be queen and you just told everyone we're engaged. Are you sure you don't want a drink?”

“There's a bottle of vodka behind you. Pour.”

“Maybe we should actually discuss this before we get too far into our cups again.” Varric tilted his head, shrugging a shoulder gently. “What's the plan here?”

Placing her elbows on the counter, Cassandra cradled her head with both hands. “I don't know,” she moaned. “There is no plan. I just spoke and now we're stuck.”

“Well, let's figure this out before they start wondering what's taking us so long. If only you'd taken me to the bedroom, then we could squeak the box-springs.” He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously.

Cassandra moaned again, letting her head drop to the counter with a loud thunk. “You're horrible.”

“All right, I'll behave. So obviously I'll be accompanying you back to Nevarra. Which is good, you'll need someone to chronicle this shit for the memoir. Besides, I've always wanted to see Nevarra City, and what better way than in style? I mean, you know I only fly first class, right?”

Her head still resting on the counter, Cassandra didn't even bother looking up when she replied, “the royal family has a private jet, Varric.”

“Even better. Is it well stocked? I'll need a fine scotch for the trip.”

“Honestly, that’s your concern?” She looked up at him, she felt so confused and guilty and here he was making light of everything. “How can you be taking this so well?”

“Because my head hurts a lot right now and if I think about all this too hard, it will hurt more.” He pushed away from the counter, and sauntered toward her. He placed a gentle hand on her forearm. “This is big, this is weird, but I'm on your side. So for now, I'll play along.”

“Thank you, Varric.” Those words hardly seemed enough to convey her full gratitude, but they were all she could muster at the moment.

“Besides,” he drawled, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Who am I to go against the word of a Queen? I am your faithful servant, your majesty.”

She couldn't keep from rolling her eyes. “Must you use honorifics?”

“It's that or Princess, your choice.”

“I'll take Princess, I've had longer to get accustomed to it.”

“Your wish is my command... Princess.”

“ _Ugh._ ”


	4. Chapter 4

The seats were unbelievably comfortable, more like lounge chairs, and so plush you sank into them. Varric felt a bit like a king. Too bad he was stuck in a flying tin can deathtrap. They were still on the tarmac and he was already regretting ever setting foot on-board.

His foot tapped out an erratic rhythm, and soon his fingers joined in, drumming against his armrest. He was startled from his thoughts when cool fingers covered his, calloused and strong but surprisingly gentle.

There was a moment of confusion, and he looked around the jet. “No one's paying attention, no need for a show,” Varric said, voice low. He was shocked to find worried brown eyes looking at him when he glanced back at Cassandra.

“Who said it was for show?” She offered up a reassuring smile. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Just not a fan of flying.”

“Your brother?”

Varric paused for a moment, he actually regretted lying to her about Bertrand. Too late now. “No,” he confided, “I was never keen on it.”

As if his words were a signal of some kind, the plane whirred to life and lurched forward, moving toward the runway. Varric shut his eyes and swallowed thickly, unable to keep from squeezing Cassandra's hand.

She returned the gesture, then let go long enough to lace their fingers. “Tell me a story,” she suggested.

He cracked open one eye to look at her. “Really?”

“It will distract you.”

She was right, of course she was. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself enough to pull something out of his ass. “Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess.”

“I'm not one for princess stories.”

“Trust me, you'll like this one.”

“Fine. Please continue,” she said and he could hear the smile in her voice, though he didn't dare open his eyes again. Not yet anyway.

“So there was a princess and she was locked away in a tower guarded by a dragon. Now, this princess waited for the knight in shining armor to come along, because that's what all the stories told her to do.” He paused, waiting for another comment, but Cassandra remained silent. “However, this princess wasn't like other princesses and she got bored waiting. So she said, 'Screw it! I'll rescue myself!'”

That earned him a laugh, and this time he opened his eyes and quickly noted the surprised looks from those around them. Well, at least he was playing his part right. He settled back in his seat as the jet started down the runaway, engines roaring, and tried to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Varric?” Cassandra said gently. “Look at me.”

He did as he was asked, focusing on her face. She squeezed his hand again and gave him a reassuring nod. “It will be all right,” she said.

“I should be telling you that.”

“You can later. In the meantime, finish your story.”

Varric cleared his throat and started again.

 

* * *

 

When they finally landed in Nevarra City, Varric realized that the distractions had helped, but he was still thankful to be on solid ground again. As the jet pulled around to the loading area, Vihlus rose from his seat and knelt by Varric's.

“Your majesty, we've organized a small press conference to herald your arrival.”

Cassandra nodded, even as she looked a bit pale. “I figured as much.”

“I've prepared a few quick notes for you. I think it best though if you speak more off the cuff, keep it more... organic.” He handed the notes over and Cassandra glanced at them quickly. Varric looked at her closely, how the corner of her eyes were pinched.

Glancing past her, he looked out the window and nearly blanched. “Uh... Princess?”

“Don't–what's the matter?” She frowned as she glanced up at him.

“Might want to take a look out the window.”

She swiveled her gaze toward the window, her eyes going wide as her hands gripped the armrests so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Vihlus!” she nearly shrieked. “That is not a small presser!”

“It appears word has gotten out.” Vihlus seemed completely unperturbed by this revelation and Varric had to suppress the urge to glower at the avisor. “Do not worry though, we have a few security agents in their folds to keep things calm.”

“Yes, that's exactly what I was worried about,” Cassandra muttered, fingers tearing at the notecards. Varric reached out and took her hand in both of his. She looked up to meet his eye. He offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“It will be all right,” he said.

She huffed out a breath that was partly relieved, partly a laugh. “Let's get on with this!”

As the plane stopped everyone gathered their things and started to depart, but not before several advisors converged on Cassandra to make her look more presentable. Fresher. Or something like that, Varric thought she looked fine before they started. Maybe a bit tired, but he couldn't begrudge her that.

Everyone filed out of the plane, and Varric saw there was a red carpet leading to a quickly constructed podium with several microphones attached. Cameras were flashing, journalists were yelling, heedless of the guards flanking them.

Cassandra addressed everyone, a simple speech that got straight to the point. No flowery words. It was completely Cassandra. Then Vihlus opened the door for questions, much to Cassandra's obvious chagrin.

“Your majesty?” a young reporter asked. “Are the rumors true of your engagement?”

Vihlus was the one to answer, a formal announcement. “It is. We had planned to release a statement at a later date, but it is with great pleasure that I announce the engagement of Her Royal Highness, Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast, to Mister Varric Tethras of the Free Marches.”

Varric suppressed a snort at Cassandra's full name, she herself barely managed to keep from rolling her eyes. He stepped a bit closer to her, taking her hand in his. There were murmurs through the journalists, obviously they hadn't been expecting a Marcher... or a dwarf.

After their initial shock, the number of flashbulbs from the journalists seemed to double along with the number of questions. Vihlus turned around, his heavily lidded eyes boring into Varric's. “Take a few questions. Keep the answers as short possible.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. Go.”

Varric and Cassandra stepped up to the podium again, and he singled out one of the reporters. “How long have you been engaged?”

“Not long,” Varric said. “We decided only a short before we learned the news of His Majesty, King Anthony. I'm sorry I never got the chance to meet him, from what Cassandra has told me he was a wonderful king, and an even better person.”

_“Where did you meet?”_

_“How long have you been together?”_

_“What about a kiss for the cameras!?”_

The questions were unending as the cameras took picture after picture, and most of them were difficult to answer since they hadn't had much time alone to figure out their story yet. Cassandra gripped his hand tight enough to make his fingers go numb.

“Relax, Princess,” he muttered around a smile.

“The kiss is the best option,” she whispered back. “It will shut them up.”

He turned toward her, giving her a saucy smile. “You sure about that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, just make it look good. Believable.”

“As you wish, Princess.” Varric tried for lighthearted, but he was quite nervous. A public kiss. With Cassandra. Maker above, what had he gotten himself into? He tried his best to ignore everything happening around them, that only made the nerves worse.

Cassandra appeared to being much the same, judging by the way she averted her eyes from the cameras. She leaned forward and he reached up to cup her face. He meant only to slightly block the view, leave them both a little dignity, but her skin was smooth and her eyes seemed to widen just a bit at the contact. She was stopped halfway, and he thought it must look a little awkward.

Shit, it _was_ awkward!

Licking his lips, more out of uncertainty than anything else, he closed the gap between them and kissed her. Her lips were soft, softer than they had any right being.

Her fingers found the way to the front of his shirt, tangling in the fabric, while he continued to gently hold her face. Something in the back of his mind told him to make the kiss better. Whether it was for the benefit of the crowd at large, or for Cassandra... well, he wasn't really sure. Either way, he tiled his head, deepened the kiss, and made sure it was _damned good_.

He was vaguely aware of a few oohs and ahhs from the journalists, the continued snap and click from all the cameras, but mainly his focus was on Cassandra. On how she was strong and solid, but warm and oh so soft. Varric wasn't sure how long the kiss lasted, though at some point it went from fake and showy... to something else entirely. It was just impossible to know if the feeling was mutual.

It was Vihlus clearing his throat, loudly, they broke them apart. At the sound, Varric snapped to himself, and pulled back, out of breath and overly warm. It seemed to take Cassandra a little longer to gather her wits. She had barely opened her eyes again before Vihlus stepped in front of them, declaring that it was time for her Highness to leave for the palace.

“You okay, Princess?” Varric muttered as they were herded toward the waiting limo.

“Hmm?” She looked up at him with dazed eyes, or was she embarrassed? He suddenly felt guilty for enjoying the kiss. “Oh, yes. Fine.”

“Look, I'm sorry if...”

“No!” She burst out. “I mean. You shouldn't be. You did as I asked, didn't you?”

“Right. That's me. Following orders.” He shot off a jaunty little salute as they stepped into the backseat. As he settled back against the leather seat, he thought he would just repeat that to himself like a mantra. He was following orders. Maybe then he'd be able to stop thinking about the damned kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

Cassandra's lips were still tingling from the kiss when they pulled up to the palace. Though she barely registered that the limo had stopped moving, her fingers lightly tracing across her lips while she tried to make sense of it all. When that proved a difficult task, she turned her attention onto the palace. It was much the same as she remembered it: a grand estate against a backdrop of sprawling gardens and lush lawns. The original castle had been added onto and added onto for years, through countless renovations until it looked more like a parliament building than a place of residence.

She remembered vividly how she would race around the seemingly endless corridors, Anthony hot on her heels as they played. The memory brought a fond smile to her face.

Varric's low whistle brought her attention back to the present. “Quite the place you've got there, Princess.”

Turning toward him the memory of the kiss came back to her full force, and Cassandra could feel heat rising to her cheeks. It was foolish, she knew. She was not a young girl, she had been kissed before. She had been engaged once... been _in love_ once; with a man who had loved her back. And yet Varric's kiss had been unlike any other.

Why should he affect her so? Why should that kiss, a staged kiss for the sake of a lie, make her knees weak and her lips tingle?

“Hey?” Varric's voice was low as he reached out to take her hand. “You all right?”

The contact shook Cassandra from her thoughts and she blinked rapidly, confused. “I'm.. yes. I was only thinking of Anthony,” she said. The lie came effortlessly, and she consoled herself that it was not a complete fallacy. Besides, how in the world could she explain to him what she had really been thinking about it?

The doors to the limo opened, and Cassandra was handed out by one of the valets. Varric followed close behind, as another car carrying Vihlus and the others pulled up. The entire staff of the palace was there to greet their new queen, lining either side of the staircase leading to the main hall. The realization of that caused Cassandra to nearly stumble on the first step.

Varric's hand, warm and steady and comforting, on the small of her back kept her from making a fool of herself. “You sure you're okay?” he murmured, leaning in close enough for her to smell his aftershave. Normally the scent of coffee and the city clung to him, but in that moment she could smell something else, a hint of spice and leather and something else that was decidedly _Varric_. The fact she thought it pleasant only made her more frustrated with herself. Honestly, this was ridiculous! It had only been a staged kiss. One she had suggested.

“It's fine,” she hissed and sped up the steps, leaving Varric to trail after her along with the advisors.

Entering the main hall, there were a plethora of flower vases on every available surface, stuffed full of fragrant blooms in soft colors. Offerings for the king's passing. They would remain, just as the flags flying high above the palace would stay at half-mast, until she took her place on the throne.

As Varric and the others filed in behind her, she was greeted by the head steward and housekeeper. She remembered them from her last visit to see her brother.

As the rest of the staff disappeared from the steps, all hurrying back to their positions, Cassandra was again converged upon by her advisors. There was much to do and little time to do it, or so it seemed to her. Josephine managed to cut through the din of everyone speaking, shooing people away with her clipboard. Cassandra had to admit she did like the young Antivan. 

“I'm sure you're tired after your trip, your majesty. You both must be,” she said, addressing Varric as well.

“Yeah, I think a rest will do some good,” he said, casting a glance toward Cassandra. She did her best to ignore it.

Josephine smiled at him before glancing down at her clipboard. “The staff have prepared the royal chambers for you, and I've taken the liberty of asking the chef to send dinner up to your room.”

Cassandra looked up at that. “The royal chambers?”

“Yes. You are to be the queen, it is only right that you take up occupancy of them.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” It seemed strange she should be there. It had almost always been off-limits. As a child she rarely ventured there, it was her parents inner sanctum. Then it was Anthony's. Now it would be hers.

“And where am I staying?” Varric asked. “Prime guest quarters? Do I have a view of the gardens?”

“No.” Josephine shook her head, laughing softly. “We've put your things in the Royal Quarters. These aren't the middle ages, Master Tethras. You're engaged, it's perfectly fine if you share a room.”

“Well--” Varric started to speak but Cassandra cut him off.

“That will be fine, Josephine. Thank you. We shall take our leave now, I remember the way.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” Josephine dipped into a polite curtsey. Cassandra turned down one of the halls branching from the hall, leading Varric toward the inner part of the palace. At one point she glanced over her shoulder at him, wondering why he hadn't spoken, now that they were alone. He appeared to be trying to take in his surroundings, glancing down various halls and at the paintings adorning the walls.

She continued stalking through the palace, her footfalls muffled by the thick rugs covering the tiled floors. It was only when she rounded the corner and saw the door to the royal quarters in sight, that she realized she had not been running from her problems, but rather toward them.

Maker preserve her, she thought as she tugged on the ornate handles, the doors swinging open effortlessly.

“Wow,” Varric breathed as he stepped inside after her. Lush carpeting covered the floor, to the right the wall was made up entirely of windows, the thick curtains thrown open, with a set of french doors leading out to a balcony that overlooked the gardens. The wall to the left contained a fireplace and mantle, a pair of leather lounge chairs set before it.

The focal point of the room though stood directly across from them, a huge canopy bed covered in pristine white linens, a fluffy looking down comforter, and more pillows than she could count. There were doors on either side of the bed, one leading to the bathroom, the other to the spacious closets and dressing area. All in all the entire chamber was larger than her flat in the city.

“So this is what living like royalty looks like, eh?” Varric said at her side.

“Yes. I suppose so,” she managed in return. Everything was too much, too confusing. She had a lump in her throat, and her mind was a whirr. “We should... we should unpack, settle in. Then we can discuss details of the engagement.”

“Whatever you say, Prin--” he stopped short at her withering gaze. “Cassandra,” he amended.

 

* * *

 

She hardly spoke while they unpacked, and then quickly excused herself for a bath. She had hoped it would relax her, but it seemed that nothing would. Still, she soaked until her fingers were prunes and Varric had to knock on the door to tell her dinner had arrived.

The meal was as extravagant as thought it would be, but she hardly tasted any of it. Varric tried to distract her with details of their engagement, and somehow they managed to pin down a plausible story to relay to others: they'd met several months ago at a charity auction, his family shop having put up several pieces to be bid on. It had been an instant attraction that led to dinner, and the rest, they would say, was history.

Varric, of course, knew enough details about her life to make it all very believable. He doubted anyone would give one whit about his own person, not when there was a royal to attend to.

“You sure you're doing all right?” he asked after the meal was finished, and the dining cart had been taken away by some quiet kitchen aide.

“You don't have to pretend, Varric. No one's here.” She rose from the chair by the fireplace and started pacing.

“We're friends, aren't we Cassandra?”

She stopped and looked at him. He was gazing up at her blandly, hands folded over his stomach. He lifted his eyebrows in question when she did not answer right away.

“Yes. We are.”

“Then why do you assume I'm pretending to be concerned about you?”

“I don't know. I'm sorry.” She covered her eyes with her hand for a moment. “I'm just tired, and it's so strange. Being here.”

“I think a good night's sleep will do wonders. I can, uh,” he paused and settled back in the lounge chair, “hell this is comfortable. I can sleep right here.”

She knew he was being serious, but that did nothing to assuage her guilt. “You can't sleep in a chair. I won't allow it. Besides, the bed is large. I've shared closer quarters with fellow fencers while competing. I don't mind sharing if you don't.”

He paused at that, lips pressed together. For a moment she wondered if she had offended him. She was continually asking things of him. Perhaps she should have pressed for his own room. Perhaps she should have owned up to her lie, dealt with the consequences. Except that thought left her bereft, thinking she would then be there alone. For all her confusion since the kiss, the idea of being there without Varric was not at all appealing.

“Fine,” he finally said and Cassandra nodded firmly. They went about readying themselves for the night. It wasn't until after she had settled in for the night, sinking back against the feather pillows with a book propped on her knees that she realized her mistake.

Varric emerged from the bathroom in a pair of pajama bottoms and nothing else. She covertly watched him as he moved to turn off a lamp by the fireplace. He was surprisingly fit for a writer, she noted, watching how the muscles in his shoulder bunched as he lifted his hand to switch off the lamp. She swallowed thickly, mentally chastising herself for staring. When he turned to face her again, she was startled to realize how long it had taken her to notice he was wearing glasses. They were silver wire-framed, and sat on his face quite nicely.

“I didn't know you needed glasses.”

“Huh?” He looked up at her, then adjusted the frames on his nose. “Yeah, have since I was kid. Contacts are more convenient though.”

“Should I now imagine you with cokebottle glasses climbing up to repaint that billboard?”

He huffed out a laugh at that, “Yeah, something like that.” She thought it odd he barely looked at her, and she hoped she hadn't offended him. Again. She continued to watch him as he moved around to the other side of the bed and pulled back the bedding.

“For what's it worth,” she said after he settled himself. “I think you look quite dashing with the glasses. Very scholarly.”

“Thank you,” he murmured. Silence fell over them and she was ready to turn back to finish her current chapter, when Varric spoke. “Cassandra?”

“Yes, Varric?” She looked up at him and saw that he was staring at her quite intensely. She furrowed her brow, wanting to question him. Then he absently licked his lips. The action brought the kiss back to the forefront her mind, and she was hard pressed not to blush again. What was wrong with her?

“I.. uh. Nothing. Goodnight.” He took off his glasses and laid them on the nightstand, shutting off his lamp in the processes.

“Do you wish me to turn off my lamp?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even. “I'm almost done with this chapter.”

“No, the light doesn't bother me.” With that he rolled onto his side, pulling the comfort over his shoulders.

Cassandra tried to finish reading, but her mind would not focus on the words. Eventually she gave up entirely, and sat the book aside. Once her light was out, she settled herself for sleep, praying it would come quickly.

It seemed only a moment had passed when Varric rolled over and flung an arm around her waist. She stiffened at the contact, unsure what to do. She hissed his name a couple times, but he was sound asleep. In fact, he drew even closer, nose nestling in the crook of her neck.

Varric was warm, pressed against her side, and his arm was a surprisingly delightful weight across her torso. The thing she enjoyed most though was how he smelled. The scent she could not place earlier was stronger now, and wholly pleasant.

She wasn't sure which fact was more alarming: the fact Varric was cuddling her, or the fact she didn't want it to end.


	6. Chapter 6

Varric had been exhausted, between worrying over Cassandra, the stress of the flight... and the whatever from the kiss. Honestly, he should not have been surprised that he fell asleep almost the moment his head touched the pillow.

He supposed he should've been thankful he didn't have hours to lie awake, stewing over Cassandra's coolness – she was grieving, he told himself. Or stewing over the kiss and the sight of her bared arms and the generous expanse of skin underneath the tanktop she slept in.

Maker, he was a fool. Of course she was beautiful. He'd known that for ages. They were friends, and you didn't lust after your friends, especially when they were poised to become the Queen of Neverra. This he told himself over and over again after he woke that morning, lying in bed with Cassandra's head a comfortable weight on his chest.

She was out like a light, and he was sure he had no chance of escape without waking her. So he let her sleep, she needed it after all. Though nearly an hour after making that decision, he was starting to regret it. The whole thing was too familiar, and way too enjoyable. Besides, one didn't lust after their friends.

Varric was just debating how to carefully extract himself without waking her, when she shifted in her sleep, moving her head until it rested on his shoulder. Tilting his head, he was actually happy to enjoy the view, she looked sweet in her sleep, face devoid of grief, when her hand moved too. It slithered down his stomach, causing him to suck in a breath, until it landed squarely where it should not have landed.

“Shit,” he hissed as her palm splayed open on his crotch. Of all the things. Of all the places. Why him? Why now? Why _there_?

Things seemed to only be getting worse when she shifted _again_ , pressing herself flush against him, face nestled against his neck. Her breath was warm and tickled, but in a very nice way he shouldn't be contemplating. She took a deep inhale, let out a soft little moan, and that was it.

He had to escape.

Only how was he going to free himself? He needed a course of action, because she was waking up. She was waking up and the moment he moved she would be awake. Once she was awake she would be aware of their position – awkward! – as well as his _growing_ problem – even more awkward!

Cassandra drew in a sharp breath, and he knew it was time. So he did the only thing a sane person could do.

He bolted.

Scrambling away from her and tossing off the sheets. He slid off the bed and all but raced for the bathroom.

He heard her moan softly and risked a glance over his shoulder, saw her stretching like a cat in the bed and quickly shoved open the door.

“Varric?” she asked, voice heavy with sleep. He shut the bathroom door in response, and treated himself to a shower. A very, very cold one.

When he emerged sometime later, he was surprised to find Cassandra gone. So he dressed quickly and went in search of breakfast. The only problem with that plan was that he'd hardly paid attention the day before, too busy taking in the details rather than the memorizing the path.

So really he wasn't surprised when he ended up lost. And starving.

Oddly he hadn't seen any palace staff since leaving the royal quarters. Which was just his luck, really. He was debating if he find his way back to the room when he rounded a corner and crashed headlong into Cassandra.

“Varric!” She sighed in relief once they regained their footing. “I've been looking everywhere for you!”

“I... seem to have gotten lost.”

She had the decency not to laugh, though her lips did twitch before she pressed them together tightly. “Well, I suppose it's a good thing I found you then.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” He squinted at her. “How did you find me, anyway?”

Now she did laugh. “I'm a champion seeker, remember?”

“Of course. It all makes sense.”

“Come on, let's get you some breakfast. I'm sure you're hungry.”

Varric fell instep next to her, winding their way through the endless – and identical – hallways and corridors. “You know,” he said after a while. “I like kind of like 'Seeker', suits you in a strange way.”

“Well, any nickname is preferable to 'princess',” she said.

He winked at her. “You have a point, Seeker.”

* * *

 

The next two days for Varric were a test in patience. Cassandra was trapped in endless meetings, getting up to date with the comings and goings of the kingdom. She had meetings in the morning before breakfast, and well into the evening. Varric himself had little to occupy his time, everyone concerned with preparations for Anthony's memorial along with the usual day to day responsibilities. No one had time for a Dwarf wandering aimless around the halls, but at least he no longer got lost.

Then came the day he hadn't been looking forward to. Not for this sake, but Cassandra's: Anthony's funeral.

They each woke early that morning, Cassandra grim and quiet and unusually pale. They got ready separately, Cassandra first sequestering herself in the bathroom, then the dressing area. A maid popped in to see if she needed help. She had been ordered away.

The day was overcast, the clouds thick and heavy, the atmosphere doubly so. It was a slow precession from the Palace to the cemetery. A hearse carving the way as Cassandra lead the group trailing behind. Varric remained steadfast at her side.

When Anthony was finally laid to rest, Cassandra was even paler still. Varric reached out, took her hand and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Her gaze remained on the casket, but she clung to him like an anchor.

She spoke briefly, her words those of a grieving sister rather than a future queen, but her voice was steady. Then it was a whirlwind of people offering condolences, and words of sympathy. Still her hand clasped Varric's like a vice.

When they returned to the palace for the wake, he flagged down a waiter and shoved a glass of champagne into her hand. He held up his, a toast to the King. Those around them sounded their agreement, and he pointedly nodded for Cassandra to drain her glass. Then it was time for more idle chitchat and platitudes.

It was sometime between the first glass of champagne and the second when Varric noticed she had disappeared from the gathering. It was a sudden realization, mid-conversation with someone whose name he couldn't remember. He had politely excused himself, and went looking for Cassandra.

He searched high and low for her, but she was nowhere to be found. Not in the ballroom or the surrounding area. It wasn't until he was close to giving up that he thought to look for her in their bedroom – he felt a twinge at thinking of it as theirs, but no one had to know.

Opening the door slowly, he stepped inside and found her seated in the middle of their bed. The dark skirts of her mourning dress fanned out around her, and he thought she looked like a water lily floating in an ocean of white linens.

She looked up only when he shut the door. Her face ashen, eyes hollow. Without a word he crossed the room and climbed onto the bed next to her. Immediately she drew close as her face crumbled. The realization that Anthony was truly gone, the weight of her title appeared to have finally caught up with her.

“Varric,” she croaked, voice thick with tears and something else he couldn't name... something that made his heart lurch.

Pushing the feeling aside, he pulled her close and she buried her face in the space between his neck and shoulder, hands fisting in his shirt front. He doesn't say anything, only murmuring soothing words and rubbing her back while she cried.


	7. Chapter 7

After the funeral, time seemed to speed up, and Cassandra realized she had been back in Nevarra for nearly two weeks. Things had settled down after the initial submersion into political life, and she found things were bearable.

Mostly due in large part to Varric.

He had been a solid, irrefutable friend to her. When she wasn't called upon for some royal business, she enjoyed showing him the grounds, telling me about the history. In the evenings they shared quiet meals and he would regale her with stories, some real, some made up, and some in-between.

She found herself settling into her new life, and continually had to remind herself that it wasn't truly her life. Varric was her friend, nothing more. The hand-holding while they took their walks, the closeness they presented when others were around... it was all lies. Unfortunately, she was starting to believe them herself.

“I'm sorry, what?” She looked up from her breakfast, blinking at an obviously amused Josephine.

“I just said I have a draft of your speech, please feel free to make any notations.” She sat a folder on the table.

“The speech....?”

“For the opening of the Carnival.”

“Right. Sorry. I'm just a bit tired today.”

Josephine nodded sympathetically before excusing herself, leaving Cassandra to go over the speech. Of all the things she had to do as the future queen of Nevarra, this would be the most fun, by far.

The annual carnival was put on by the palace as a way to raise funds and bring attention to various programs and charities. This year they would be raising money for the children's hospital. Cassandra would give a speech for the press to open the carnival. The first night would be entirely for the children, free of charge.

Cassandra would also be attending the opening. Varric too, if she could persuade him.

“Persuade me to what?”

She looked up as he took a seat at the breakfast table. “I'm sorry?”

He laughed and started dishing up some eggs onto his plate. “You were talking to yourself. About me.”

“Oh,” she breathed, feeling foolish. “I only... I was hoping you would attend the carnival with me.”

Varric looked up, a wide grin fixed in place. “Why, Seeker, I would love to!”

It was foolish, she knew that, but there was no way to stop the flutter inside her chest. “Good. I'm looking forward to it.”

 

* * *

The carnival, so far, appeared to be a great success. If for no other reason than to see the smiling faces of the children. The press had been allowed inside as well, all quietly snapping photos and scribbling notes. Cassandra's speech had gone well, and now she and Varric were meandering between booths.

Her blue sundress – chosen by the stylists for a ‘playful look’, whatever that had meant– fluttered in the summer breeze, and she lifted a hand to smooth it down, when Varric took her other hand in his. She glanced down at their laced fingers, then toward the reporter aiming a camera at them.

She smiled at Varric. “Good thinking,” she said quietly.

“I try my best,” he replied. She worried for a moment that he seemed oddly... somber. She would have to ask him about it later. Speaking so openly with so many reports around was not advisable.

Moving past the reporter, hands still linked, Cassandra started left whereas Varric tried to go right. She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder, brows lifted in question.

Varric nodded toward the game booths. “Come on, let me win you a prize.”

She looked around, there weren't any reporters that she could see. Then again it was probably best to keep up appearances while in the public eye. Or he could—no. No, she would think like that. This was not a real date. Oh, but if it were...

Cassandra smiled and nodded, letting Varric guide her to the games. The first one they came across was a shooting game; a plastic crossbow with suction cup darts and a spinning target. Varric tilted his head, debating, before reaching for his wallet.

“That's n-not needed, sir,” the person running the game said, casting a glance toward Cassandra. “Not for you.”

Varric didn't pause, grabbing the cash from his wallet and placing it on the partition. “Got to keep things fair,” he said and picked up one of the yellow crossbows. “Because I'm about to win that bear.”

The bear in question was the grand prize, and honestly it was nearly as big as Cassandra was. She had no idea what she would do with it, where she would put it... but she wanted it. If for no other reason than it came from Varric.

The employee nodded and handed over the darts before stepping back, giving Varric an unobstructed view. He loaded the crossbow, took aim, and let the darts fly in quick succession. They all hit true to their mark, and the attendant gave a low, appreciative whistle.

“Quite the shot, sir.”

A slow smile spread across Varric's face. “I've had some practice.”

They didn't press the matter, instead turning to grab the stuffed bear from its hook. It was surprisingly soft, Cassandra thought as she took it, her fingers digging into the light brown fur. She wrapped her arms around it, trying to suppress a giddy smile.

“No one's ever won me a prize before.”

“Well that's a damn shame, Seeker.” Varric stuck his hands in his pockets. “I might have to make up for that. Which one next?”

She laughed, feeling lighter than she had in ages, and shook her head. “No, let's go on a ride.”

“All right,” he said slowly as they moved onto the rides, all flashing lights and blaring music. “What’s first?”

Cassandra glanced around before her gaze landed on one in particular. “I'm afraid you wouldn't like my first choice, Varric,” she said and jerked her chin toward the Ferris Wheel.

“I think I can handle a carnival ride.” With that he started dragging her to the short line. Propping her teddy bear next to the entry gate, Cassandra followed Varric up to the waiting seat. They were locked in, and the man running it pulled the leaver, sending them back a few feet while the next seat was loaded.

When they reached the top of the Ferris Wheel, Varric was visibly tense. But he waved her off when she asked if he was all right as the last seat was filled. Then the ride started up again, and they were descending toward the ground, to Varric's obvious discomfort.

As they crested the top of the ride again the Ferris wheel grinded to a halt, their seat once again stuck at the top. Cassandra leaned to one side, hoping to get a look at what was causing the problem.

“Uh, Seeker? Could you not move?”

She stilled, realized the seat was rocking slightly and slowly settled back. “Sorry,” she mumbled, stealing a glance at him. His gaze was fixed on his feet, hands tightly gripping the guard. She should have never asked him to join her.

“I'm sure they'll have it repaired in a moment,” she assured him.

“Hey, it's romantic isn't it?” He spared her a glance. “I'm sure the press will have a field day.”

“If we were trying to impress them we should have rode through The Tunnel of Love.”

“Right,” he snorted. “Because nothing says love and romance like flying babies in diapers.”

They laughed together, and Cassandra tried not to think about how their predicament _was_ romantic. Up so high the carnival sounds were dulled, the bright lights softened at a distance, and the moon all the brighter for it. The cool breeze from before was wafting across them, rustling their hair.

The Ferris Wheel almost started again, a loud wrenching noise coming from the machinery below them, and an angry cry from the men working on it. The ride stopped again suddenly, their seat rocking even more violently than before. Varric, almost instinctively, pressed himself closer to her.

Once the seat stopped rocking they both seemed to realize how close they were, and turned toward each other in unison. Varric wet his lips, and Cassandra thought he looked apologetic, but then his gaze darted toward her mouth. They paused for the space of a heartbeat, and then leaned into each other until their lips met.

Varric lifted his hand, his fingers sliding over the back of her neck, tugging her closer to deepen the kiss. Cassandra's hands found their way to Varric's chest, resting gently over his heart. The kiss was better, and far more intimate than the quick pecks they'd been sharing in public. Even better than the showy kiss for the cameras when they first arrived, the one that left her lips tingling. The one she _still_ caught herself thinking about.

She couldn't be sure how long they kissed, she was lost to the world until she was pulled back by the sound of a low chuckle. “Okay, lovebirds, ride's over for now,” the man running the ride said.

They jumped apart, both startled, and Cassandra a little more than dazed. “Sorry,” Varric muttered as he levered himself out of the seat, stepping onto the platform.

Cassandra couldn't see his face as the attendant offered her a hand, helping her from her seat. Absently she licked her lips as she retrieved her stuffed bear, wondering if Varric had been apologizing to the ride attendant or her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaguely unrelated: The amazing and fantastic and wonderful vehlr has put together a SOUNDTRACK for Royal Pains... and it's so good and so perfect and everyone should go listen to it. 
> 
> http://vehlr.tumblr.com/post/122963060132/royal-pains-the-unofficial-soundtrack-a-musical 
> 
> There are vague-ish spoilers for upcoming chapters BUT COME ON THIS IS A ROMCOM TROPE FIC, I THINK WE ALL KNOW HOW THIS IS GONNA GO!


	8. Chapter 8

Varric carefully avoided ever talking about the kiss on the Ferris Wheel. Luckily it seemed Cassandra was more than happy to forget about it, too. Only it was nearly impossible to forget it, not when he saw he every day. Not when he smelled her perfume every time she came close. Hell, even the damned teddy bear that had taken up residence in their room reminded him of it.

_Their_ room. He really needed to stop thinking of it as 'theirs'. He shook himself from his thoughts and scrubbed his hands over his face, letting out a deep sigh.

“Shit, Varric, what have you gotten yourself into?” 

“Master Tethras?” 

He looked up to find one of the young valets standing before his desk in the library. Varric dropped his hands and sat up a little straighter. “What is it?”

“Sir, Vihlus would like a word with you in his office. Privately.” 

“All right,” Varric said slowly. It was strange for Vihlus to have anything to do with him. Stranger still that he'd want to see him in private. “Tell him I'll be there shortly.”

“No, sir. He wishes you to come now.” 

“Fine.” Varric pushed his chair back, rising to follow the valet as he lead the way to Vihlus's office. 

The office was located in the eastern wing, away from the hustle and bustle of daily life in the palace. As Varric stepped inside, he noted dark colors and antique furniture. It was classy yet utterly foreboding, and he thought that suited the advisor well. 

Vihlus looked even more grave than usual as he sat in a large leather chair, his fingers laced and resting on the desk before him. 

“Master Tethras. Please, have a seat.” 

“So...” Varric drawled as he settled himself. “What's this about?”

“It's a chat. I think you and I are long overdue for one.” 

“Is this the part where you play over protective guardian? Ask about my intentions with Cassandra while making some not-so-thinly veiled threats?” He'd meant it as a joke, but the dry laugh Vihlus let out was far from droll. 

“Something like that like,” he said. He leaned forward a bit, fixing Varric with a steady gaze. “Where are you from, Varric?”

“Kirkwall. The Free Marches.” 

“Hm. Do you have family?” 

“I..” he paused. “My parents died when I was young. My older brother passed a few years ago.” 

“How?”

Varric returned Vihlus' careful gaze. “Plane accident.” 

“Hm,” was the curt reply. Vihlus continued to stare at Varric, his eyes unblinking like an owls. Finally he broke his gaze and leaned back in his chair. “Let us dispense with the trite formalities. I think they do both of us a great disservice.” 

“What do you want, Vihlus?” 

“I simply want the truth. Because I know there's more to you than meets the eye.” 

“What could I be hiding?” Varric tossed his hands into the air, mind scrambling for the right words. “If you're doubting my feelings for Cassandra, I can honestly tell you that I care for her. A great deal. If you think I'm some kind of gold-digger after her fortune, I don't know what to tell you? Want to see my bank statements? I'm perfectly comfortable with no need of money. Beyond that? I don't think I need to prove myself to you.” 

Vihlus laughed again, bared his teeth in a humorless smile. “You're rather tenacious. I can see why she likes you.” He rose from his chair, hands folded behind his back, and started pacing long the far wall. 

“I'm going to give you a choice, Varric. You can either tell me the truth, or you can continue lying and suffer the consequences after I find out. Because I assure you, I will find out.” He stopped pacing and turned on Varric, spreading his hands. “The choice, as they say, is yours.” 

“Where do you come of?” Varric felt anger bubbling inside his chest, and he had a sudden urge to punch the advisor in his smug little face.

“I have been advisor to the royal family for many years. It is my job to ensure the welfare of not only the Pentaghasts, but also the people of Nevarra.” Vihlus stepped in close, looming over Varric like a great vulture.

Varric swallowed, wet his lips, before looking up at Vihlus with narrowed eyes. “Are you threatening me, _advisor_?” 

“I would never be so crass,” he said, straightening up. “I am merely informing you that I will do whatever is needed to take care of unworthy admirers.” 

The realization hit Varric like a lightening bolt, all the talks he'd had with Cassandra regarding her past forming into a clear picture, and he glared up at Vihlus. “You're the reason Galyan broke the engagement. You son of a bitch! Do you know what that did to her?” 

Vihlus' eyes went wide before narrowing slightly. “I'm surprised it matters that much to you. I would imagine you'd be happy to have a rival out of the way.”

“Screw you! Her heart was broken and I care if she's hurt.” 

“I don't expect you to understand. You don't come from this life; you don't belong here. But I will tell you there are standards to be upheld, Master Tethras, and I will do all I can to ensure that they are. If that means digging around in your past and figuring out your lies, then I will do it. Happily.” 

Varric surged to his feet, poking a finger into the other man's chest. “I don't care who you think you are. You're not in charge here. Cassandra is the one who will be queen. Cassandra is the one who wants me here. So I'm staying, whether you like it or not!” he spat and whirled on his feet, marching out of the room without sparing Vihlus another glance.

It wasn't until Varric had returned to the royal quarters that he realized his mistake. If he had played it cool he might've been able to keep Vihlus pacified. Been able to keep everything up a little longer. It was just that he'd been so angry. 

But why?

Sagging into one of the chairs by the empty fireplace, he had to admit he'd mostly been angry with himself. Because Vihlus wasn't wrong; he had lied. 

He lied _for_ Cassandra. He lied _to_ Cassandra. Hell, he even lied to himself. 

Every morning when he woke up with a sliver of hope blooming inside his chest, and didn't squish it down immediately. Every morning when he pretended like he could actually be part of this world, her world. Every morning he lied to himself, let himself believe it could be real, that maybe Cassandra felt something for him too. 

The realization of everything shocked him to the core, but it was a fact. Undeniable. 

“Varric?” Cassandra's voice sounded as the door swung open behind him.

“Yeah?” he called. 

“Ah, there you are!” He could hear the smile in her voice as she walked around the chairs to face him.

“I'm meeting with the treasurer downtown, which is terribly boring, but I thought you might want to ride with me? The bookstore I was telling you about, the one with the rare books? It's near there, and I thought you might want to see it.” 

“I uh...” He wasn't sure what to say, there was too much he wanted to tell her. The truth about himself, about Vihlus and Galyan... but he couldn't. Not when she looked so happy, hands folding in front her while she gazed at expectantly. 

“That sounds great, Seeker.” 

“Good! Come on!” She held her hand and he looked at it for just a moment, readying himself. Then he took he hand with a quiet sigh, letting her pull him up from the chair. He fell instep next to her and told himself he was ready. Ready to pretend nothing was wrong. Ready to pretend--

Another realization. One that shocked him so much he nearly walked into the door on their way out. One he should have realized a long time ago. 

Cassandra paused, looked at him askance. “Are you well, Varric?”

“Fine. Perfectly fine.” He smiled at her, trying to reassure her even as his heart stuttered.

They were still holding hands as they stepped into the hall and Varric looked down at their clasped hands, his mind still reeling from the revelation: he didn't _just_ care for Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast. 

He was in love with her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know how or why I’ve really hit my stride the last couple days and I’ve just been churning out chapters. So here, have another one! Besides, there’s only like one left after this (!!). Maybe an epilogue. We’ll see how it goes! Also big thanks to vehlr for naming the bear. HAHAHA!!

Cassandra could think of few things more torturous than being stuffed into evening wear, unfortunately when one was to be queen one could not refuse to attend her own gala. Especially with the coronation coming up so soon... but that was not something she wanted to dwell upon.

The stylists hovered and fussed over her for _hours_ to ensure she looked flawless. Her short hair had been loaded with products to smooth it out, not a stray wisp out of place. Her face had been primed and concealed and powdered to perfection, her eyes lined with kohl in a fine point, and her lips had been stained with a deep red lipstick. 

Then she had been stuffed into her gown; dark purple satin that slithered over her body like it had been poured on. The halter style had a plunging V in the front, which meant she had to be taped in to avoid any unfortunate accidents. The folds of fabric in the back draped down, leaving a small expanse of smooth skin exposed. 

The only jewels she wore were a glittering diamond and amethyst bracelet, and the diamond ring that had belonged to her mother. Part of her always felt a little guilty for wearing it, since her engagement was a farce. But over the past several weeks it had become a regular adornment, and she no longer felt 'right' without it. That was something else she tried not to dwell on.

When the stylists were finished, she sent everyone away, wanting a moment to herself. She sat at the vanity, tilting her head left and right, gazing at her reflection. It was her face, but it seemed so foreign to her anymore. She felt was hardly the same person she was when she arrived. Surprisingly, or not, that had more to do with Varric than her new responsibility. 

Sighing, she stood and walked into their bedroom, wondering if Varric was ready. The poor man had been banished to dress in the bathroom while her entourage had taken over the dressing room. When she found the room empty and the bathroom door shut, she tried to find something to occupy her time while she waited. Milling around the room, she found herself gravitating to the stuffed bear that she had placed near the windows. She reached out, straightening the bow tie around his neck. 

“Is Curly ready for his grand debut?” Varric chuckled behind her. 

“I've told you, his name is not 'Curly' it is Ser Stuffington Rutherford the... second.” As she turned to face Varric she felt her breath leave as her mouth went dry. His tuxedo was impeccably tailored, showing off broad shoulders. His white shirt looked crisp, shoes polished, and hair neatly combed. The single button jacket gave it a tasteful, classic look; the only modern touch was the purple pocket square that matched her dress. 

“You, um,” she said once she realized she had been staring. “You look very handsome, Varric.” 

That roused him and he blinked at her with wide eyes. “Shit, Cassandra....” he cleared his throat, shifted his weight. “You look stunning.” 

“Well,” he said and held out his elbow. “Shall we go?” 

She nodded, placing her hand on his arm while fighting a blush at the compliment. “We shall.”

The hallways were quiet, most of the staff having been put on duty for the gala, and soon they arrived at the large double doors leading to the ballroom.

As they stepped inside they were met with an opulent feast for the eyes. The chandeliers sparkled, the twinkling lights casting a bright glow on the room. The draperies were all pulled back, the windows and doors leading out to the patio and the gardens were all thrown open, letting in the heady scent of fresh blooms. Buffet tables were packed full of delectable looking food, complete with a towering champagne fountain. The polished floors shone as the party-goers glided across them, the small band playing a soft waltz. 

Cassandra couldn't help but be impressed with Josephine's planning abilities, and she wondered if there was anything the young woman couldn't do. Speaking of the Antivan, Cassandra spooted see her fluttering around across the room in a ruffly royal blue gown. Once Josephine became aware of the couple entering the ballroom, she hastened forward. 

“Oh, you both look lovely!” She reached out to straighten Varric's bow tie, gently patting the pocket square before withdrawing her hand. “I'm glad that arrived in time. It truly completes the look.” 

“Thank you, you're not lookin' so bad yourself, Ruffles.” 

Josephine giggled lightly before affecting a more serious air. “Unfortunately tonight will be all fun, there are several important people here that you'll need to... uh...”

“Kiss their ass?” Varric supplied. 

“Basically.” 

Cassandra sagged slightly. “This is why formal affairs are the worst. You have to make conversation when all you want to do is drink champagne and raid the buffet.” She glanced down at her dress. “I don't think I can eat anything while in this dress.” 

“Don't worry, Seeker. You've got me. I can distract them while you sneak some petit fours.” Varric smiled at her, placing a gentle hand on the small of her back, his fingers making contact with bare skin and sending a delightful shiver up her spine. 

“I appreciate the fact you're here, Varric.” She truly meant it, and hoped he understood her full meaning. He smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes. She had no time to comment on it before they were set upon by a group of Orlesian ambassadors. 

 

* * *

 

For the first part of the night it seemed all Cassandra had done was discuss the driest topics imaginable with the most boring people she had ever met. There was talk of money and loans and _infrastructure_ and dozens of other topics that caused her head to hurt. 

Varric had made the entire thing bearable though, injecting anecdotes and sharing stories, doing his best to charm everyone... and succeeding, quite honestly. He never left her side, his hand always a solid comfort on her back or hip. She herself found it increasingly easy to drape an arm around his shoulders, press just a bit closer. And as they made their way around the room she caught bits of idle gossip declaring them a handsome couple. 

They were, she had to agree. 

She had decided to take a break from mingling, and was seated on one of the chairs lining one wall, sipping champagne, while Varric stood close-by, regaling the treasurer and his wife with the story of how they'd met. Every soft often she caught snatches of the story, and had to fight back an incredulous snort at his attention to detail. Though, she had to admit he had made up a rather good tale. 

“... but Cassandra is amazing woman,” she heard him say, voice growing fond. She stole a glance toward Varric, and marveled at how soft his features were while he spoke. How believable it all seemed. She drained her glass to rid herself of the lump in her throat. “I'm beyond lucky to have her in my life. Now, if you'll excuse me?” 

Cassandra glanced away when Varric turned around, and pretended to be admiring one of the flower arrangements on the table next to her when she felt him stop beside her. 

“May I have this dance?” 

She snapped her head toward him, staring at his open hand, then looking to meet his gaze. He lifted his brows in question. “Well?” 

“I. Yes. That would be lovely.” She sat down her glass on the table and slipped her hand into his. They walked onto the dance floor just as a new song was starting. Varric turned to face her, catching her hand firmly in his, the other going to her hip while she rested her free hand on his shoulder. Then they were off, twirling about the room. 

“Where did you learn to waltz?” she asked. 

“Around,” he replied with a smile. “What can I say? I'm full of surprises, Seeker.”

“That you are.” 

They continued their dance in silence, and Cassandra felt as if she were floating across the dance floor. The music, the glittering finery and ballgowns swirling around them, it felt like a fairytale she might have read as a child. 

As they music slowed, the last strains of the melody dying away, Cassandra felt the spell start to disperse, but not the pounding of her heart or the flutters in her stomach. One of the official photographers had knelt beside them, quickly snapping pictures. 

“What about a kiss? The Princess and her knight?” he suggested.

Varric acted first, reaching up to cup her cheek to bring her face closer to his. The kiss was soft, chaste. And she was struck at how different it felt. Much different than the Ferris Wheel. The thought gave her pause. 

“Thank you, perfect!” The photographer said before disappearing into the crowd again. 

Cassandra wanted to ask Varric about the kiss. She thought she wanted to ask him about many things, but she caught sight of unfortunately familiar grey hair in the corner of her eye.

“Oh, Maker,” she said in disgust. 

“Problem?” Varric quirked a brow at her. 

“My great aunt is heading this way. If we get stuck talking to her, we'll never escape.” She glanced around, looking for an out. “Ah! Come along!” She grabbed his hand, leading him off the dance floor. 

They hastened past people before diving toward a small recess in the wall, blocked by the heavy drapes that were tied back. It was cramped but well hidden, and Cassandra was sure her great aunt would soon move onto new prey without them in her line of sight. 

The only problem was that they were now in exceptionally close proximity. Close enough for their breath to mingle, his chest pressing against her with every inhale. 

“Varric...?” she trailed off, unable to find the words as it seemed whatever spell had been woven during their dance, descended onto them again. She lifted her hand and gently laid her palm on the side of his face. He leaned into her touch, eyes locked with hers, dark and full of an emotion she had never seen before. 

She moved slightly, taking in a deep breath, and then it was like they were magnetized, their lips crashed together in a bruising kiss. Cassandra let out a soft moan as Varric's fingers dug into her hip, his other hand sliding around her side and splaying on her bared back, warm and solid and pulling her even closer. 

Even in such a confined space, they were a flurry of action, hands caressing and groping, trying to touch as much as possible. Fingers dug into hair, trailed along collarbones, all while their lips were locked in a furious kiss. 

Then just as suddenly it changed, Varric slowing it to a gentle kiss. His hands reaching up to cup her face, as he dragged his mouth over her chin and jaw. She clung to the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, unable to speak or move or breathe. He was achingly tender as he laid his lips against hers once more and.. oh, Maker, but she wanted this. Wanted him. More than anything else she wanted him. Needed him. 

Then he broke the kiss all together, pulling back. 

“Cassandra... I...” 

She blinked open dazed eyes, saw the remorse on his face and she was sure she felt her heart crack before it plummeted to her feet. He was going to tell her it wasn't real. It had never been real except in her fantasies. Her in her foolish, childish dreams. 

He wet his lips, took in a breath to speak, but a voice beyond the drapes was calling her name. Shaking her head, she dropped her hands and pressed herself against the wall, putting what little space she could between them. 

“I should – they need me,” she managed, marveling that her voice didn't shake. With that she pushed back the drapes and stepped out from the alcove, attempting to discreetly fix her dress and hair. She was certain she must look a mess.

Though that was the least of her worries at the moment. She was far more concerned with the fact that she was in love with Varric Tethras, and there was no way she was ever going to get over it; far more concerned with the fact that she was once again left picking up the pieces of a shattered heart.


	10. Chapter 10

Varric sighed and worked at the crick in his neck. Apparently sleeping at his desk in the library wasn't agreeing with him, but that really wasn’t news. He'd been hiding out there for several days, since the gala, like the giant coward he was. It was funny, too, because he would have never described himself as such in the past. Perhaps cautious, or wary, but never a coward. Yet now it hardly seemed a strong enough word.

Logically he knew he should speak with Cassandra instead of avoiding her, but she hadn't sought him out either.

Besides, how did he start the conversation? Oh, by the way, I'm completely in love with you. I was gonna tell you the other night, but then you ran away like you'd just made the worst mistake of your life. 

He sighed again.

Hiding would do him no good, not when it was Cassandra's coronation. As her fiance he would have to make an appearance. Smile and look happy, probably answer questions about the wedding that was never going to happen. 

Glancing toward the grandfather clock, he realized he would need to start getting ready soon. Likely Cassandra was already being fussed over by stylists. He rose from his desk and instead of heading to the royal quarters, he turned toward the kitchens.

Everyone was rushing about, readying for the banquet later to honor the new queen. Luckily he managed to steal a quick breakfast amidst the hustle and bustle. Then he decided to return to the quarters for a shower and to find his suit.

He was surprised to the find the room empty when he arrived. Frowning, he noticed his suit laid out on the bed with a note written in Cassandra's careful hand.

_Varric,_

_Left for Parliament to sign the necessary documentation. A car will be waiting for you out front at 10am._

_\- Cassandra._

Shaking his head, Varric headed for the shower, before hurrying to get ready in time, as it was he was still fiddling with his tie when the car pulled up half an hour later.

The Parliament building was located in the center of the city, a grand structure that had stood the test of time. There were valets waiting when his car pulled up, one of them escorting him inside. The ceremony was to take place in the session hall, the only place large enough to accommodate so many people.

The assembly would be on the floor, while the gallery would be full of various advisors, press, and those closest to Cassandra. Himself included. As he walked up the steps, sparing a glance down below at the people already gathered, he was flagged down by Josephine.

“Here, I've saved you a seat.” She waited until he had settled himself before leaning forward to straighten his tie. “Honestly, you're hopeless.”

“But why worry about it when I have you, Ruffles?”

She waved him off, focusing her attention on the floor. “Isn't it exciting? You must be so proud of her.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Proud.”

They waited a short while as everyone filed into the room, then there were some official documents to read but Varric hardly paid attention. Vihlus, as the highest ranking official and lead advisor, was overseeing the ceremony, and his dry, droning voice made it impossible to stay focused.

Besides, his full attention was on Cassandra. She sat behind Vihlus, dressed in full regalia for the ceremony. She looked uncomfortable and pissy... and honestly, really beautiful. Then came the moment for her to be officially crowned as the new monarch.

She recited after Vihlus, promising to watch over the people of Nevarra, to protect them and lead them with dignity and honor. Varric knew she would. She was going to make a magnificent queen. Fair and just, caring but firm.

After the ceremony was finished, there was an official photo-op, then a motorcade through the city for the people to see their new queen. After the procession was complete, it would be back to the Palace for another 'candid' photo-op, and the banquet.

The halls were a frenzy as everyone tried to get where they needed to go, Josephine leaving to take care of some thing or another. Varric wasn't even sure if he was expected to ride with Cassandra back to the palace or not. He hoped not. That would be a long car ride.

He stopped short when a hand fell on his shoulder. Turning he found Vihlus looking more vulture-like than ever.

“A word, Master Tethras. Privately.” Without waiting for assent he turned, heading down the hallway to his office.

Once they were both inside the small room, Vihlus shut the door with a decisive click before rounding on Varric, “I assume you remember our talk?”

“Hard to forget.” Varric crossed his arms, feet braced apart. If this was going be a fight, he was ready.

“Good, then I won't need to repeat myself.” He crossed to his desk, pulling a thick file from one of the drawers. “I've found what I was looking for.”

“What's what?”

“An accounting of every sordid detail of your past. Every illegal smuggling operation, including drug running it appears?” he said, thumbing through the pages. “Also it seems you weren't on the best of terms with the law as a young man. Even a stint in Juvenile Detention.”

Varric took a step forward, eyes glued on the file. “That's, that's not possible.”

“Oh, Varric, you have so little faith in my abilities?” Vihlus looked up at him, brows lifted. “I told you I would uncover your lies. I did just that. I assume our beloved queen does not know any of this? The truth about your brother?”

Varric couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t happening. “How did you get those? They were sealed.”

“Yes, I saw that. By Miss Aveline Vallen, I believe. Or is it Mrs. Hendyr now?” Vilhus went back to thumbing through the folder.

“You son of a bitch,” Varric said through clenched teeth. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm giving you another choice. Consider it a show of good faith.” Vihlus smiled slowly. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way.”

“The hard way,” he continued, “would consist of leaking this information to the press and watching them swam like hungry piranha. Watch as your name is drug through the mud, as well as your friend Aveline's. It also might be detrimental to her career. Watch as Cassandra is shamed for not knowing her intended was nothing more than a petty thug.”

Vihlus returned the file to the drawer and pulled out an envelope. “Or we do this the easy way. Which means that while Cassandra is otherwise engaged for the next hour or so, you take the car waiting for you outside back to the palace, pack your things, and never see Cassandra again. Then tonight I will hand her a 'Dear Jane' letter from you.” He waved the envelope. 

“That's my handwriting,” Varric said, eyeing Cassandra's name scrawled on the front.

“Yes, getting a sample of it was hardly difficult. So what do you say, Varric?”

Varric glowered at Vihlus, wanting nothing more than to punch him in his smug face. The only thing the bastard didn't know was the arrangement with Cassandra, the fact their relationship was fake. That was the only thing that stayed Varric's hand.

Because he knew that leaving wouldn't hurt anyone but himself. And that way... that way everyone was protected.

“Fine. I'll go.”

“Good, I'm glad to see you have some sense.”

With nothing else left to say, Varric threw open the door and marched out. He managed to sneak out of the building unnoticed and quickly found the waiting car. The ride back to the palace was long and gave him far too much time to think.

No one took notice when he returned to the palace, heading to the royal quarters. He was thankful for that. Once he was inside the room he set about packing, but drug his feet for as long as he could. Unfortunately there wasn't much to pack, and all too soon he was finished. Before he left he found himself drawn to the bear in the corner.

“Well, Curly, it's been real.” He paused, tilting his head. “Don't look at me like that. You know this is for the best. Besides, I'm the only one left hurting. I can deal with that.”

“Oh! I didn't know you were busy, should I come back after you've finished talking to the bear?”

He whirled around to find Josephine standing by the door. “What are you doing here, Ruffles?”

“Well,” she said as she shut the door. “I like to think I'm stopping you from making a mistake.”

Varric frowned at her. “Come again?”

“Vihlus is a deceitful, vile person who has been ruining lives for years. I want you to know that you needn't worry about any threats he may or may not have made against you or anyone you care about. Because there are others who are looking out for you.”

“Do I want to know?”

She giggled, which he found more than a little unnerving. “It's probably best if you don't know the details.”

Josephine cast him a wide smile before turning to open the door. She paused before she left completely. “Oh, and Varric?”

“Yeah?”

“A bit of advice if I may?”

“Sure, Ruffles.”

“Maybe let her choose?” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “She hasn't really been able to make her own decisions for a while.”

Varric stood staring at the door long after she left. Josephine was right, of course. Cassandra deserved at least that much. So he would tell her everything. His mind made up, he raced to the door and flung it open. It was time to talk to Cassandra.

 

* * *

 

She was in the royal study for the candid photos. It took a while before Varric was allowed inside by the photographer. But he waited as patiently as he could... practically hopping from foot to foot, trying to sort his thoughts.

He was finally allowed inside when the photographer was figuring out the lighting a different pose. He saw Cassandra seated before the bay window overlooking the gardens.

She looked up when he stepped inside, “Varric?”

He didn't have a chance to reply before Josephine appeared, herding people out of the room. “Come on, let us give her majesty a moment alone.”

It seemed in no time the room was empty and he didn’t know where to start.

“Uh, we need to talk.”

She glanced down at her hands, shoulders sagging a bit. “Yes, I suppose we do.”

“Let me go first, all right?” He waited until she lifted her gaze again, nodding. He sucked in a deep breath and then took the plunge. The words tumbled from his lips, everything about his past and the mistakes he’d made, the lies he'd told and why he'd told them. He explained all about Vihlus, the threats and even Galyan. She sat perfectly still the entire time, her eyes fixed on him.

“I know that's a lot to take in,” he said at the conclusion of his story. “But I have something else to say and I'm just going to say it before I lose my nerve: I love you, Cassandra.”


	11. Chapter 11

Cassandra could hardly believe what she was hearing. Could hardly focus on his words past the sound of her heart hammering against her chest.

Across from her, Varric looked away, eyes downcast. “I just needed you to know that. And I know that Galyan is still out there, and I know you loved him... I just thought—shit,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don't know what I thought. I guess I just didn’t want anymore lies.”

When he was finished, silence hung between them and it took her a moment to realize she needed to speak. She swallowed thickly.

“You love me?” she finally asked.

Varric's eyes widened in surprise and he nodded slowly, “Yeah.”

“How long?”

He looked even more surprised at that. “I think...” he stopped, obviously trying to recall something. “I think I fell in love with you the night we got drunk. When you had your head resting on my lap. It just... felt right. But I didn't start to realize it until the first morning we woke up together in bed. That felt even more right.”

“Oh,” she breathed and felt the first sting of tears. She took in a shuddering breath, and the tears started to fall. It was a silly thing, foolish really, but it didn't seem to matter, she couldn't stop them.

“Shit,” Varric hissed as he took a hesitant step toward her, hand outstretched before dropping it to his side. “You don't need to cry, it's not that terrible... is it?”

Cassandra shook her head, and closed her eyes. Trying to regain control of her emotions, though it seemed a fruitless task when she felt she might explode with them. Taking in another deep breath, she opened her eyes again and looked at Varric. She nearly laughed when she saw how terrified he looked, eyes wide and lips a thin line. Then she realized that she hadn't made her own confession yet.

“I love you too,” she blurted.

Varric tilted his head to one side. “What?”

“I love you. I have for so long. The longer things went on the more real it seemed between us, the more real it became for me. I didn't dare hope... but then the kiss at the gala. Maker, the gala.” She shook her head, rubbing at the space between her eyebrows. “When you pulled back I thought you were going to tell me it was a mistake, and that I was absurd thinking any of it had been true. But I wanted it to be. I wanted it so badly.”

“I was going to tell you I love you, but you left. I figured you thought it was a mistake.”

Cassandra huffed out a laugh. “We are fools, aren't we?”

“Yeah, I guess we are.” He laughed weakly and closed the space between them, reaching out to cup her cheek. “You know, if you've changed your mind, I wouldn't blame you. It's not every day you find out your fake fiance is a petty criminal.”

She reached up, placing her hand over his. “That's not who you are though.”

Varric nodded, gave her a crooked smile. “What do you say, Seeker? Think you could ever be happy with someone like me?”

“I suppose.”

He laughed and leaned into her, their lips were just about to touch when a knock sounded on the door. Varric sighed and rested his forehead against hers.

“You know, these interruptions are getting ridiculous.”

“That's the problem with being queen.” She gave him a quick peck on the lips and pulled back, calling out to whomever had knocked.

The door opened a crack and Josephine appeared, looking sheepish. “I'm do hate to interrupt, but the photographer is having a fit about the lighting changing _again_ , and then you need to change before dinner.”

“It's all right. Let them in,” Cassandra said.

“Don't I get a say in this?” Varric muttered under his breath. She laughed at him before she was set upon by the makeup artist to fix her ruined mascara.

She felt she could barely sit still for the rest of the shoot. The only plus to the whole ordeal was that Varric had to pose with her for several photos. But they had no time to speak when it was finished before she was whisked off to change.

Cassandra had to rush, quickly slipping on her strapless burgundy gown, one stylist straightening out the layered skirts while another fixed her hair and makeup. The hectic rush was fine by her, the sooner the dinner was over, the sooner she could be alone with Varric.

Her stylists were still fiddling with things as she hurried to the diningroom. At least they wouldn't start without her. Varric was waiting for her in front of the doors, his hands folded behind his back. 

He did a double-take when he noticed her coming, and gave a low whistle as she stopped by his side.

“Shit, Seeker. Red is definitely your color.”

She smiled. “I'll have to remember that.”

The doors opened for them and everyone seated at the long banquet table rose as the herald announced her Royal Highness Queen Cassandra Allegra –

“Oh, do get on with it!” she hissed at them.

“Uh, Seeker?” Varric whispered when they were halfway to the head of the table.

“What?”

“I'm seated to your left, yes?”

“That's correct.

He spared her a quick glance. “You do realize who sits to your right, don't you?”

They were close to the end of the table, and Cassandra felt her heart drop. “Vihlus,” she hissed.

The advisor himself looked surprisingly calm, even as his gaze darted toward Varric. Only a slight narrowing of his eyes gave away any shock he might be feeling at the moment.

Cassandra glared at the man before looking at Josephine. “Can you assure me that Varric is safe from Vihlus?” she whispered. 

“I can, your majesty.” She smiled and dipped into a low curtsey. “I've worked quite diligently to uncover Vihlus' game and repair the damages. I also uncovered many interesting pieces of information in my work. Things that Vihlus would never want to get out, he shouldn't be a problem.”

“Good.” With a pleased nod, Cassandra whirled on Vihlus and punched him as hard she could, the blow landing firmly on his jaw. He stumbled and crashed to the floor, clutching his face.

The entire room was silent save the sound of Vihlus' pained cries. Cassandra stood over him, glowering. “You will never dictate my life again! Do you hear me, Vihlus? I will make my own choices, and I choose Varric.”

“Now, someone get him out of my sight!” she ordered. 

The poor guards hesitated a moment in shock before springing to action. Hauling Vihlus to his feet and escorting him out of the banquet hall.

Josephine dipped into another curtsey. “If you'll excuse me, your majesty, I would like to take of this problem personally.”

“Of course, Josephine.”

Then there was a long moment of stunned silence before everyone gathered started talking at once. There were questions and concerns. Some were shocked, others amused. Even a few muttering that Vihlus should have been punched in the face years ago.

Cassandra turned around, shaking her hand slightly. She would have to ice it later, but it was worth it. She found Varric studying her, a look on his face she had never before.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head, a smirk starting to curl his lips. “That was just _really_ hot.”

 

* * *

 

Cassandra had an icepack on her hand when Varric emerged from the bathroom later that night. The dinner had been long and tedious because it wasn't every day the queen punched out her lead advsior. But after a long soak in the tub, and a second dessert ordered from the kitchens, she was feeling much better.

Varric's hair was still damp from his shower, his chest bare. Unlike times before, she blatantly watched him as he shut off the lamp by the chairs, straighten up the papers of his manuscript – papers all about her. Maker, it had all started with that blasted memoir. Now she wasn't sure she wanted to share it, share her personal life.

“I can feel you staring,” Varric said dryly, turning around.

She smiled and lifted her shoulders. “So?”

He laughed and crossed to the bed, looking at his usual spot. “So...”

Cassandra shook her head, trying to ignore the apprehension fluttering inside her chest. “It's no more awkward than the first night we shared the bed, is it?”

“No, I suppose not.” He climbed into bed, leaning back against the headboard, a pillow tucked behind his neck. “How's the hand?”

She took off the icepack and sat it on the nightstand, her knuckles were part way to a bruise, but otherwise fine. “I'll live,” she said.

“Quite the story. I've never had anyone defend my honor like that before. Very romantic,” he said with a wink.

Now it was her turn to laugh. “Perhaps that can be your next story? The Seeker and the Storyteller.”

“Oh, I like that title. Sounds like a good read. How does it end?”

Shifting the blankets, Cassandra turned on her side and scooted a bit closer to Varric. Obediently he opened his arms, and she rested her head on his shoulder, one arm going about his waist. She smiled when he wrapped his arms around her.

“Maybe it ends with happily ever after?”

“Didn't take you for the fairytale type, Seeker.”

“What can I say? I'm full of surprises, Varric.”

His laugh rumbled inside his chest, and she smiled against his shoulder. They stayed like for some time, just resting next to each other. After a while Varric's thumb rubbed her arm, trying to gain her attention.

“Cassandra?” he asked.

She lifted her head to meet his gaze. “Yes?”

“What about Galyan?”

“What about him?”

“It's just that if he's out there.. and there's still a chance. Aren't you curious?”

“No. I loved him once, that is true, but not anymore. Besides,” she rested her head on his shoulder once more. “He was the one who left.”

“That wasn't his choice. Vihlus made him. I was already packed when Josephine found me.”

“You wouldn't have left.”

“No?”

Cassandra pressed herself a little closer, draping a leg over his. “No, you're too stubborn.”

He let out a breath through his nose. She lifted her head again, reached up to smooth the crease between his brow. “You're jealous,” she said.

“I am not.” He frowned. “I'm only concerned that this is what you want.”

“You _are_ jealous! You shouldn't be though. Galyan... he's not what I want. You are. _This_ is what I want.”

He seemed content with that answer and she tucked herself against him again, her eyes drifting shut as his fingers trailed over her arm, soothing. Cassandra shifted, getting herself comfortable.

“Why do you always smell so good?” she asked absently.

“Do I?” he laughed.

“Yes.” She buried her nose in the space between his neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply. “I noticed it the first night we shared the bed. You fell asleep and ended up cuddling me.”

Varric snorted. “I had a similar problem. Woke up with your head on my chest and your hand... elsewhere.”

She followed his gaze and pressed her lips together in amusement. “Oh, I'm sure that was a very... uncomfortable problem.” She paused, trying to recall that morning. “That's why you ran away.”

“Yeah. You know, cold showers, and all that.”

“I suppose there will be less need of that now...”

He looked down at her, askance. “I don't know. Will there?”

She sat up and slid a leg over his hips, palms resting on his chest. His eyes widened slightly as she straddled him, but never broke her gaze.

“Cass--” he stopped, her name dissolving into a hiss as she leaned forward, her hips pressing into his.

“Varric? Do you want this?”

His hands raked up her thighs, fingers digging into the fabric of her pajama bottoms. He grinned at her, “Yeah, let’s just say you, uh, have my full attention, Seeker.”

Huffing out a soft laugh, she slid her hands over his chest, reaching up to cup his face before leaning down to kiss him. She kissed him slowly, deliberately, and when she pulled back his lips followed hers, fingers gripping her hips tighter.

Cassandra straightened and pulled her tanktop over her head, dropping it over the side of the bed. Varric's eyes darkened as he looked at her, bared from the waist up. They stared at each for the space of a heartbeat, then Varric sat up, one hand moving to the small of her back, the other tracing over her stomach. His fingers trailed up the space between her breasts, and she shivered despite herself.

The movement elicited a quiet groan from him. She did it again.

Varric swallowed thickly, his fingers continuing their path, over her chest, tracing along her collarbone. Then he circled his hand around the back of her neck, tugging her forward for another kiss. She pressed herself against him, arms wrapping around his neck, hands digging into his hair. When he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, she rolled her hips against him again, moaning when his hand slipped from her back to squeeze her ass.

Then the next thing she knew, she was pressed back into the bed, Varric leaning over her and kissing a trail down her neck.

“Varric,” she murmured, breath hitching when he sucked her earlobe.

“Seeker?” he asked, voice low and the sound rumbling against her chest, causing a delightful heat to burn in her belly.

“Yes.”

“No interruptions this time.”

She laughed and kissed him, his hand dipping below the band of her pajama bottoms.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL KIDS, I present you the smutty NSFW but also gratuitously fluffy epilogue. I rarely write smut but things happened and here we are.
> 
> I really want to thank everyone for all the likes/kudos/reblogs and all the wonderful comments. It makes me so happy that you’ve all enjoyed it! You’ve been all so sweet and encouraging and it’s really meant a lot. 
> 
> Also major thanks to vehlr for prompting this story and helping with plotting and listening to me babble about it and just generally being wonderful and great. I LOVE YOU A LOT! <3

In the weeks following the coronation, the fallout of dealing with Vihlus and his dismissal – but Josephine was a fine replacement, better than fine – there were meetings and parties and phone calls and press conferences and it was all so much.

But Varric tagged along, rarely leaving Cassandra's side if he could help it. Despite the vetting Josephine put him through, the interviews he had with the press. Despite the growing list of responsibilities from the advisors, Varric had his own small list. Which included one of his new favorite activities: ravish Cassandra every chance he got.

Like now. It was another party, a fundraiser, and he had backed her into an alcove so that he might further _appreciate_ her dress, her neck.... and other equally fine places.

“Varric,” she hissed, head thrown back. Her fingers clutched at his hair, one tanned leg resting over his shoulder. “This-we _can't._ They'll notice we're gon-oh, Maker.”

Any further protests dissolved into soft moans as Varric flicked his tongue, his hands sliding up to keep her hips in place. Honestly though, it wasn't his fault. She'd worn red again, with a slit up one side. How could he be expected to control himself?

So he'd started with a hand on the small her back, a whispered word in her ear. Then they were in the alcove, and he was lavishing attention on her collarbone, the curve of her breasts, and down to the juncture between her long legs.

He hazarded a glance at her; eyes half closed, lips parted in a silent sigh, and her cheeks flushed. She was so damned sexy it sent a wave of want straight to his groin, his pants growing uncomfortably tight.

“Varric, don't stop. _Varric_ ,” she panted.

Grinning, he tilted her hips forward and doubled his efforts until she was writhing above him. She lifted a hand, pressing the heel of her palm against her mouth to muffle her cries, her other hand digging almost painfully into his scalp.

He swirled his tongue around her clit, pulling a low, keening moan from her lips and then she was falling apart, trembling and shaking above him as she climaxed. She reached for his tie, hauling him to his feet to rest her forehead against his as she sucked in air.

“What were you saying about we couldn't what?”

“You ass.” She laughed and shoved his shoulder. Her amusement quickly faded though as her breathing calmed, her eyes burning. Then deft fingers were working at his belt, unzipping his hands. Cool fingers slid inside his boxer shorts and—his thoughts went fuzzy as she squeezed his length.

Cassandra hooked one leg around his hips. “I want you inside me,” she whispered into his ear, voice husky and he nearly came right then and there. She guided him in and kissed him hard to swallow both their moans.

She moved against him, setting the pace, slow and languid as she twisted her hips _that_ way. Varric couldn't think, could hardly breath for the blissful feel of her, and buried his face in the crook of her neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Beyond the drapes that block them, he was distantly aware of party sounds; the laughing chatter and strains of music from the band. But a far better music was his name tumbling over and over from Cassandra's lips.

Her fingers slip under his suit jacket, digging into his shoulders, desperately seeking better leverage. She swirled her hips against him, arching into him, eyes shut and lower lip caught between her teeth. They move together, the tension building between them as everything becomes more frantic.

She rocked her hips as he thrust into her, once, twice, and then they were both sent over the edge. He kept his face pressed against her neck to muffle his cry of pleasure, Cassandra's little more than a hushed whimper in his ear.

They stayed together for a long time, trying to calm their racing hearts, their ragged breaths. Cassandra eventually opened her eyes, looking dazed and offered him a smile.

She carded her fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his face. “I love you,” she said.

“That would have more meaning if I hadn't just fuck--”

“Varric!” she hissed, slapping at his shoulder. “Don't be crude.”

“Okay.” He rolled his eyes. “If I hadn't just _ravished_ you senseless. But don't get me wrong, Seeker.” He paused to nip at her jaw. “I do enjoy the ravishing.”

Her fingers drifted over his face, her eyes following the path carefully, face soft. She leaned forward and kissed him gently.

When they pulled apart Varric reached up to cup her cheek, thumb tracing over her swollen lips. “Did you realize that this is our alcove?”

She giggled. “Well, we've certainly christened it, haven't we?”

“No. Well, yes. But I meant this is the same alcove from before. The gala.”

“Oh.” She looked around. “Did you know that when you pulled me in here?”

“Maybe? I mean, I can't say I never imagined what might've happened that night. If we hadn't been interrupted.”

She smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Would there have been ravishing?”

“There will always be ravishing.” He laughed. “No, but I had a plan when I pulled you in here.”

“I gathered.”

“Another plan. You just looked so fucking beautiful I couldn't help myself.” He pulled back a bit, and they spent an awkward moment fumbling to rearrange their clothes. Varric trailed his hands over her hips, smoothing out her dress.

She slapped his hand away. “That's how it got disheveled in the first place, stop it.”

“You're right. I can't get distracted again. Even if you are very distracting.” He took her hand in his, and lifted it to his lips. “So I've been thinking a lot lately...and I realized that there was something we've never really addressed.”

Cassandra furrowed her brows in confusion. “What is it?”

“Well, I know certain things are a given... after the whole fake engagement thing. I just thought things should be more official. At least between us.” He turned her hand over, tracing a finger over her palm. Carefully he slipped her mother's ring from her finger and held it up. The diamond winking up at him.

“You know,” he said. “This really isn't you. It's beautiful. But it doesn't say Cassandra. Certainly doesn't say Seeker.”

He slipped the diamond ring onto her right hand, and then pulled another from the inside pocket of his jacket. It was far more simple than the diamond, but once he saw it, he knew it was perfect. Two separate bands, one platinum, the other gold, consisting of two interlocked infinity knots.

Cassandra watched him closely as he held the ring up, eyes already glittering with tears.

“They call this the lover's knot,” he told her. “Old fashioned tradition. See, each band is separate but the knots bind them together. Independent but forever linked.”

“Oh,” she breathed, eyes glued on the ring.

“Like I said, I know some things are just a given. The engagement’s been announced for ages... I'm sure Ruffles is already planning the flower arrangements.” He took a deep breath, swallowed down his nerves. “But I thought I should ask. For real. So what do you say, Seeker? Wanna get hitched?”

She grabbed the ring from between his fingers and slipped it onto her left ring finger. “Of course I do, you idiot.”

“So eloquent,” he laughed, even as his heart stuttered inside his chest. She had said yes.

Cassandra shook her head at him, grabbed his face with both hands. “I love you, more than I can say. I can think of nothing better than becoming your wife.” Then she kissed him. Quite thoroughly.

She pressed her lips together when they parted, her face still close to his. “Varric?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we can sneak out of the party and go back to our room?”

He gave her a slow grin. “We can sure as hell try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for fun here is the inspiration for the ring [HERE](http://content.artofmanliness.com/uploads//2014/06/double.jpg) and [HERE](http://content.artofmanliness.com/uploads//2014/06/knot.jpg). Along with the description: 
> 
> “This particular type, often called the ‘true lover’s knot’, was a popular ring style for sailors separated from their beloved. It’s made by interlocking two overhand knots in two parallel wires, so each one is flexible to move about the other, yet they’re inseparable forever. Another fact about this type of knot: in Victorian times, to show if a young couple’s love would last, each would take a small limb of a tree and tie a lover’s knot. If the knot held and grew for approximately a year, their love would stay true.”


End file.
